


Reunions

by mermatee



Series: Ghost Stories [3]
Category: Ghost - Mystery Skulls (Music Video), Mystery Skulls (Band)
Genre: Angst, Confrontations, Gen, Post-Ghost Video
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-04 02:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2906612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mermatee/pseuds/mermatee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, what happened just after the events of the Ghost animated video. Mystery is unsure for a change, Vivi discovers the truth, Lewis isn't sure if he wants to, and Arthur's tired of running.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mystery

The journey home had been filled with static, crackling from the radio and hanging in the air between Vivi and Arthur. Vivi, naturally, had been the first to speak. 

“The mansion disappeared.”

Arthur's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, lips pressed together until they barely seemed to exist. 

“I know.”

Vivi gave a shaky smile. “OK, so that was weird, but-”

“But nothing. That was a fucking nightmare.”

“Well, no shit, it's a haunted mansion that disappeared.” She grabbed Arthur's shoulder, causing the van to nearly swerve off the road.

“Watch it!”

“Sorry, jeez. Come on, let's go back.”

The van screeched to a halt. 

“Easy with that, it broke down before-”

“Because the ghost wanted it to, Vivi.” Arthur put his face in his hands. 

“Yeah, but why? I mean, I've dealt with spirits like those humming ones before, they've just been trapped here for so long that they don't even remember why, but that other one came out of nowhere. What even happened after we fell through the floor? I wound up in the kitchen with Mystery, where did you get to?”

No answer. Mystery frowned and nudged Arthur with his nose, trying to get him to start the engine again, to get home and fall apart there instead, not here, in his gaudy van on a deserted road with an oblivious passenger. 

“Arthur?”

Nothing. Mystery gave up the pretence. 

“Vivi. We should go home now.”

“But that house-”

“It's gone.”

“But we can still search the ground it was on, look for something-”

“Not now.” Mystery nodded towards Arthur, white as a sheet and puffing out little gasps of air, sweat beading at his temples. 

Vivi sighed and reached across to squeeze his remaining flesh and bone hand. 

“It's OK. We'll come back another time.”

Still nothing. 

“Arthur?”

He stirred, pushed a limp strand of hair off his forehead, gulped slightly. 

“Hey. It's OK. Let's swap, I'll drive back.”

*

The next day, Mystery observed as Arthur left for work, Vivi (and, in his mind, Mystery) unaware that he had called in sick. Mystery said nothing, assuming that he'd need some time alone without questions or noise or expectations. Vivi was poring over a series of scrawled notes she'd written out upon getting home. She still hadn't been to sleep. Once the door clicked shut, she glanced over at her not-dog. 

“Arthur knows you can talk.”

“Yes.”

“I thought so. He didn't react to it last night. Seems like the kind of thing he'd freak out at.”

“In all fairness, he was already... distressed.”

“Yeah.” Vivi stared at the notes. “I feel like such a dick for pushing this, but I need to go back there.”

Mystery cocked his head to one side. “Unfinished business? Who precisely is the ghost here?”

She smiled sadly. “I just... have a feeling. About the ghost that was chasing us. Or Arthur, anyway. Did you notice that? He only stopped when I was between him and Arthur. And the suit is so... anyway.”

“He?”

“What, ghosts can't have genders now? It was a men's suit, and...”

“And you thought it might be him.”

Vivi glanced in his direction, dislodging some of the tears balancing in her right eye in the process. 

“Do you think it might be? I mean, well, look.”

She showed him a map. The same one she had used on that night, to find the cave. She had marked the previous nights detour on it, the one they had taken thanks to a pile-up on the main road. The two lines intersected at a point near the site that had torn them all apart. Mystery could not find it in his heart to lie to her, but couldn't quite tell her the truth either. 

“It is possible.”

“The only thing is... why did he want to hurt Arthur? I've dealt with vengeful spirits before, remember that girl in Maine, the one who drowned?”

Mystery did remember. That poor child. She had drowned over a century ago, after her brother continued to keep ducking her long after she could still scream that she couldn't breathe. Her brother, apparently, presumably panicking and weighed down with guilt, ran to shore, claiming to have lost her. 

She never got her revenge. The family had moved to Colorado shortly after her death, wishing to avoid the sea that took her. 

Vivi was still talking, mostly to herself. 

“I guess it's possible he could be resentful that Arthur got to live and he didn't, but then, why wouldn't he feel that way towards me? I lived. I didn't even lose an arm. And that's not Lewis, he's not that kind of...” her voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat. “He wasn't that kind of guy.”

Mystery chose his words carefully. 

“Vivi, I appreciate that my advice on this matter may not be needed-”

“Nonono, it's absolutely needed.”

“Well, then. I think that this is something you may wish to discuss with Arthur. Just remember that things may not be as black and white as you think.”

“What the hell's that supposed- wait, you know something.”

“I know nothing. I am a dog.”

“You are NOT a fucking dog, and you DO know something. Tell me. Tell me what happened.”

Silence. 

“It wasn't a bear attack, was it?”

“You will need to speak with-”

“No, I will not need to ask Arthur about this, I will need to ask you, because you clearly know what happened, and can express yourself without turning into a complete wreck in the process. What. Happened.”

Vivi was anything when angry, from somewhat overbearing to utterly terrifying. Now, the latter applied more than ever. Mystery had to remind himself that he was, technically, more powerful than her. 

“It is not my story to tell.”

Vivi flung her notes on the floor. “Oh, I'm sorry, forget all this time I've spent mourning my dead boyfriend and blaming myself, your fucking integrity is the real issue.” Tears were streaming down her face now, words being forced out through ugly gulps of air. “You knew. You knew what really happened and you lied to me. What don't I remember? What did you do to me?”

“I didn't do anything to your memories, for what it's worth. That was Lewis. He didn't want you to remember him as he was at that moment.”

“Which was?”

*

It had been harder than he expected to watch the two ride the aftershocks of Lewis' death. 

Mystery (Gods, he had a name now, how was he used to it? After centuries, he'd been given a ridiculous name, and he responded to it) missed Lewis too. He missed how he frequently smelled of food, how he sneaked him pizza crusts, how he stuck to lower notes on his violin after a higher note had sent Mystery fleeing under the sofa, how he could happily sit there for hours, watching TV and rubbing behind his ears. He even missed that ridiculous young man fussing over him and calling him a “handsome puppy” long after he had reached what he assumed was adult size in this species. 

He especially missed the dynamic of the three together. Eventually, after Arthur came home, he and Vivi had entered into a misguided, unspoken agreement; Vivi would drag Arthur off on more cases, desperate to prove that it didn't always have to go so badly, that they just got unlucky. Arthur unwillingly went along with a nervous smile because he hoped that it would ease Vivi's misplaced guilt. Both parties soaked in regret, they continued with the same charade, missing the one component that made it anything other than retribution. 

Sometimes, Vivi would talk as though in a trance, repeatedly stroking him while recounting all the cases they'd had where everyone had come out relatively unharmed. Sometimes, late at night, he still found Arthur sat in the back yard, staring vacantly at the stars and mouthing words even Mystery couldn't hear, although he suspected that they were aimed at Lewis and mostly consisted of apologies. And it hurt; he was amazed at how much it could hurt to watch these humans, these sad people, go about their lives with so much to regret. 

Humans had such a short life span as it was. 

*

Vivi had eventually given up questioning him. By which, he meant that she had screamed, cried, yelled, and, eventually, called Lance. She sweetly asked what time Arthur would be getting off work, apologised for the confusion, hung up, and poured herself a drink. By the time the door clicked open, Mystery couldn't help but wonder if Vivi was a bigger threat to Arthur than Lewis' spirit could ever be. 

“How was work?”

“Oh, y'know, usual shit.”

“Well, I'm glad the food poisoning cleared up.” 

Arthur froze, clearly caught in a lie. Mystery could see his lips moving slightly, trying to calculate his next move. 

“Sit down.” Vivi nodded at the sofa. Arthur obeyed.  
“Aren't you going to... sit down too?”

“No.” Vivi set her glass down on the table, and walked over to him. “Tell me what happened.”

Arthur gave a shuddering sigh, fiddling with the index finger of his prosthetic arm. 

“OK, I lied. I'm sorry. I just... after last night, I felt kind of freaked out, and just wanted to be alone for a little while.”

“Not your sick day. I want to know what happened at the cave.”

Arthur's eyes darted towards Mystery for help. 

“Don't expect help from him, I've spent a good portion of my day arguing with a talking dog. He just kept telling me to ask you.”

Arthur's face had become practically grey, hands twisting in his lap. 

“That ghost, last night. That was him, wasn't it? You didn't think I would recognise him?” Vivi's voice was trembling with anger, indignation, her hands balled into fists. “Why was he chasing you?”

“I... d-don't-”

“He wanted you dead. Why?”

All Arthur managed was a small gasping noise. 

“Arthur. No. You don't get to do this now. Lewis died, and you AND the fucking dog have been lying to me ever since. I have missed him, and blamed myself, and it's been hell, I want to know what happened. ARTHUR.”

Mystery readied himself for intervention as Arthur's head snapped up and he managed to croak out “I killed him.”

Humans had such a short life span as it was.


	2. Vivi

Arthur had been there since that local music festival. 

Vivi had gone with a guy she had considered dating, or, at least, sleeping with. She had been 20. Said guy was apparently more of a lightweight than she expected. If anything, she felt relieved, watching Ashley from her home room several years ago patiently wipe his lank hair from his forehead, apparently not put off by the half hour he spent vomiting into a hedge. 

Vivi did not feel like sleeping in his tent. 

She ended up seeing a band consisting of those guys from eighth grade who she assumed would have found unfulfilling jobs in a call centre by now. It was awful. She drained the weak beer she paid five bucks for, acknowledged the heaviness in her bladder, and strolled backstage. 

A boy with the obligatory lanyard sat on a folding chair, oblivious to his surroundings. He seemed terrified enough to eject his own skeleton when she clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“Wait, are you meant to be here? Can I see your pass? I mean, if it's OK...”

She smiled down at him. She didn't know why she automatically liked this boy; he was small, and scrawny, and had ridiculous hair, all bleached yellow, clashing horribly with his thick, dark eyebrows and that goatee. 

“I need to use the bathroom. Is that OK?”

“There are toilets-”

“Yeah, I know, but can I use the ones that aren't horrible?” She gave him a pleading look. “Come on, dude, please?”

The boy glanced down at his feet. “OK, so there are some backstage. I'll take you there, but just this once, OK?”

“Thanks, you're a lifesaver.” And, after she had used the “VIP cans”, which were the same as the civilian toilets but cleaner, she couldn't quite bring herself to go back outside. 

“Can I stay here?”

The boy tensed up, glancing around for some kind of authority figure. 

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that.” Vivi slumped on the ground next to his chair. “Look, I shouldn't be here at all, I got dragged here by some asshole who's probably a complete mess by now, and... I don't know, I just want to kill time until this stupid thing is over. Can I at least sit on the floor here?”

The boy frowned, then stood up, gesturing to his folding chair. 

“You can use my chair if you like. I'm only here for today. Hey, you OK to get home?”

Vivi sat in the chair, feeling curiously guilty. “Not really. I'm meant to get a lift back with Josh, but he's a mess and... well, honestly, I was gonna call my stepmom.”

“Where do you live?”

“Like, an hour away.” She shrugged. “No buses come this way, so I'm basically stuck here until-”

“I get off work at two.”

She glanced up at the boy who was currently staring intently at his feet. “I mean, two in the morning, I should tell you that. But I can give you a lift home if you like. I get it if you don't, I mean, I could be a serial killer, I'm not, but-”

She burst out laughing. “No offence, dude, but you'd be the worst serial killer ever. But yeah, if I could get a lift back, that'd be great, if you don't mind. I don't mind waiting. Can I wait back here though?”

He managed a shy smile, and pulled a cigarette from a pack concealed in his shirt sleeve. “Sure. Mind if I smoke? I dunno if you have asthma or...”

“Gross habit.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Can I have one?”

“Sure.”

“I'm Vivi, by the way.”

“What, like the letters? VV?”

“No, like Vivienne but without the enne. What's your name?”

“Arthur.”

“Like the king?”

“Basically exactly like the king, but with, like, no authority or sword-pulling credentials.”

Vivi laughed, and held her cigarette out for a light. 

*

That same nervous boy sat on the couch, gripping onto his knees, staring into the distance. Time barely seemed relevant now. He spoke again. 

“I still don't understand what happened.”

She could hear their neighbours arguing over something through the thin walls. 

“It was my arm, but not me, but something... took it. Made it its own. My arm pushed him and he fell, and Mystery-” Arthur trailed off, staring into the distance, just as he had done in hospital. 

Vivi slumped on the floor, leaning against the table leg. The flickering of that weird light in the hallway intruded on her line of vision and God, she was so angry. 

“Give me a cigarette.”

Arthur nodded weakly, dug in the pockets of his vest until he had located both a cigarette and a lighter. She lit it, inhaled, and exhaled with the force of a thousand lives. 

“You pushed him.” Even to her, her voice seemed strangely detached. 

Arthur looked ready to disagree, then clearly changed his mind. 

“Yes. I pushed him. He was on the edge and I pushed him. I didn't mean to or want to, but I did.”

“Why?”

Arthur just shook his head. “I don't know. The thing, whatever took my arm-”

“Stop.”

Arthur stopped. 

“What thing?”

Mystery chose that point to intervene. 

“It was a demon of some sort, Vivi.”

“Piss off.”

“Vivi. Do you really think I would spend months protecting a cold-blooded murderer?”

Vivi threw her cigarette on the floor and stomped it out furiously. 

“I don't know, you seem to have no problem lying to me for all this time.”

“To protect you.”

“OK, so what you're saying it that the whole bear attack thing was bullshit that you made up to protect me from the thought of Arthur murdering Lewis?” Her voice was getting shrill, and she didn't even care. 

“It wasn't Arthur.”

She glanced from her dog to the anxious wreck on the couch, and back again. 

“Vivi. It was never my intention to lie to you. Sometimes, the dead try to limit the damage they cause when leaving this world. Lewis did just that. The bear attack fabrication, it was all for you. I was the one to tell Arthur to stay silent.”

She couldn't stand to look at Arthur any more. 

“You. Leave. Please. I just...” her breath came out in little sputters, like a broken shower head, and Arthur slowly rose to his feet. He avoided her eyes. 

“I know this is a lot to deal with, Vi-”

“Don't call me Vi.”

“Sorry. God, I'm sorry. Vivi-” he cleared his throat- “Vivienne. I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sorry, and I'll make sure Lewis is at rest, OK?”

Her voice tore from her throat with a harsher sound than she intended. “How? He's already dead, you stupid piece of-”

Time passed. The door clicked shut. She sat, numb, on the couch, hearing the van splutter to life outside. 

*

She had first slept with Arthur on a late Autumn day, after they'd been busy raking her Dad's lawn. Oddly, she'd taken a liking to the shy, sweet boy from the music festival, teetering between feeling flattered at his unsubtle gaze and nervous at the thought of actually caring for him too. Ashley, during an intense text message conversation, had admitted to being involved with Josh, and Vivi didn't really care. She and Arthur had piled up the fall leaves, considered leaping into them, decided that it would be too much of a cliché, and had, instead, fallen into her bed, initially as the result of a tickle fight, then she had found herself kissing him and tangling her stumpy fingernails in his peroxide-fried hair. Later, still playing with his hair, she asked him about its natural colour. 

“Kinda dark, same as my eyebrows, I guess”, he muttered, before burying his face into her shoulder. She prised his chin away and took a good look at his nervous face. 

“Hey.”

“What?”

“Stop being cute.”

And she poked his forehead, and he laughed, and they spent the rest of the day tangled on her bed, watching old cartoons and staring at the glow in the dark stars on her ceiling once night came again. 

*

Mystery had been uncharacteristically quiet, or as much as he had been since he'd confirmed his status as confusing talking animal. It took what seemed like hours for Vivi to raise her face from the throw pillow to truly look at him. 

“So much for dogs being loyal.”

Mystery smiled sadly, or at least, managed the canine equivalent. 

“I'm not a dog, you know that. But nothing I did was because I wanted to betray you.”

“You protected Arthur. He killed Lewis and you pulled some story out of your ass about a bear attack.”

“To protect you. And him, to an extent. Do you really think he'd last in prison?”

Vivi's fingers tightened on the couch. “He killed Lewis.”

“No. I'm not familiar with the kind of spirit that did kill Lewis, we may need to do some research, but it wasn't Arthur. Arthur was, if anything, a reluctant vessel. It was his body that was used, but he wouldn't have committed such an act of his own free will. I took his arm for a reason.”

Vivi stared dully at the creature she had previously regarded as her dog, once upon a time. 

“You took his arm.”

“Yes. To stop the spread, you understand. Some spirits, when they possess a person, they can take over incredibly quickly. If the point of entry is a limb, it is easier to remove it.”

“I don't get it. Why Arthur?”

Mystery met her eyes. 

“He was afraid. Some spirits feed on fear. No-one in that cave carried more fear than he did.”

Silence. Vivi could hear a motorbike buzz by outside. 

“Vivi. I can assure you that no-one regrets what happened more than Arthur does. I would not have sheltered him had he simply killed Lewis out of petty jealousy.”

More silence. 

“Do you trust me, Vivi?”

For some reason, that made her head snap in Mystery's direction. 

“Do I trust you? You lied to me.”

“I would not have done so were it not for Lewis' wishes.”

“So you just let me live with his killer.”

“Is that how you see him?”

Vivi managed a soundless scream and flung her glass at the wall. The smashing sound and subsequent tinkling woke Galaham, who poked his head out of the nest he had made in confusion. Vivi curled up on the sofa. 

“Mystery, what the fuck are we going to do?”

The not-dog gave her a sad look. 

“It all depends. Can you look Arthur in the eye and still call him a killer?”

Vivi froze. Honestly, she couldn't think of anyone less likely to be a killer than Arthur, a guy who spent hours working on prosthetics for a hamster unlikely to live for more than about three years, who was terrified of spiders but still captured them in a glass and put them outside rather than hitting them with a shoe, who always gave change to homeless people if he had it, and was the best person to have around if you were throw-up drunk, always appearing with a glass of water and a bucket if you needed it. Mystery seemed to read her mind. 

“That doesn't prove anything, granted, it's all anecdotal evidence. Just know that he did want to tell you. I was the one to discourage him.”

Vivi didn't notice how cold she was until she realised that Mystery was tugging a blanket over her with his teeth. She spent what seemed like hours rubbing at the seams with her fingertips, Mystery silent and patient, until something occurred to her. 

“So where did Arthur go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of background on how Vivi and Arthur might have met, as well as her reaction to what actually happened in that cave. This was tricky to write because... honestly, how would you react? I personally have no idea, having had minimal interaction with talking dogs and murderous body-stealing spirits.   
> As always, reviews, comments, etc, welcome! And happy new year, folks.


	3. Lewis

The house had barely faded to nothing when he found himself pulled back towards the cave. That thing, the creature that resided in it without a corporeal form, had not been kind. 

_“He still lives.”_

Lewis nodded, running what barely passed for fingers over the cracks in his heart. 

“He had her with him. I couldn't- no. Not with her there.”

_“You saw her and became weak.”_

Lewis didn't know how to respond to that. Was it weakness? He had used the last of the energy he had ever carried as a living human being to ensure that she wouldn't have to see a death in progress. Truth be told, he almost wanted to brush her aside, to kill Arthur first and explain why afterwards, to calm her and feel her warmth and have her know that she had been unaware of the danger that was Arthur, but it was alright now, he had saved her. He heard an ugly chuckling. 

_“And you all lived happily ever after. Is that correct?”_

The faces in the photo beamed up at him. God, she looked so small next to him. 

_“You know that you could be with her again.”_

Lewis clicked the locket shut, knowing he'd only open it again in a matter of seconds. “Only in death. I can't make her live her life tied to me. I can't harm her.”

_“You could have. Am I to assume that I guessed wrong when I thought that she was the cause of your little tantrum?”_

Sometimes, when he thought too hard about what happened, Lewis swore he could see glimmering outlines of the stalagmites that had pierced him flickering into existence, seemingly emerging from his chest. 

He could have killed her. But he would have had her back, someone to wile away the years with in his lonely tomb, someone other than those vague shapes and a voice filled with contempt. The voice itself understood. 

_“Just as well for her that he's so good at running away, isn't it? That's what he did. He had the chance to face his own death like a man, and he ran away to save himself. Why did you let him? He never gave you that option.”_

It occurred to Lewis that he had never truly considered how he would kill Arthur, or if he even wanted him dead. Brief fantasies of hauling him to the edge of that ledge and hurling him off had drifted across his mind, tit for tat. But that seemed so quick, a few seconds and they would be even. 

He didn't want to be even with Arthur, not any more. 

* 

The sun seemed to burn through the walls of his apartment that one day. It wasn't even that hot, it was one of those cool, cloudless fall days where the stacks of leaves seemed to glow in the late afternoon sunlight. Lewis had long abandoned the TV because the sun shone onto the screen, making it impossible to see what was happening. He could have shut the curtains, but he relished the last of sun before the days would be too cold and short to bask in like this. 

That, and he had a perfect view of Arthur, currently trying to fix the van for the millionth time. There was that. Vivi noticed him just sat there, observing Arthur from the window, and wrapped her arms around him from behind. 

“You know, I don't think there's a law against offering to lend him a hand.”

“I already did.” He pulled her around to his side. “He said he didn't need help.”

“Well, no shit, you know nothing about cars, let alone ancient vans.” Vivi followed his gaze for a few seconds. “What, you think he looks hot, all covered in oil and-”

“No. Well, yeah. But mostly... I dunno, it's kinda nice seeing him focussed on something.” Lewis idly played with Vivi's fingers and nodded towards Arthur, currently stroking his chin, lips pursed, gazing intently at the exposed engine. “We see him looking freaked out or worried all the time, I like it when he looks... y'know. Different. Same reason I like watching you read, or sew or make a sandwich. You look completely focussed on that thing.”

Vivi laughed. “Are you comparing his skills with that van to my sandwich making process?”

“Kinda. I saw you the other day, taking forever to decide which kind of mustard-”

“Oh come on, there are, like, six in our kitchen alone!”

“And you had to pick the perfect one. I like watching people do stuff they care about. Helps me read them better, I guess.”

“Man. You should've stuck with that psychology class.”

“Probably.” He took the moment to tilt her chin up, lean down, and kiss her, gently, then deeper, slower. He pulled away and rubbed his lips together before licking them. 

“Lip balm?”

“You know it. Can't be solving mysteries with messed up lips.”

“Bubblegum, right?”

“Wrong, blue raspberry.”

“I'm claiming that as a victory, blue raspberry bubblegum almost definitely exists.”

“Still isn't what's written on the tube.” She grinned and went to the kitchen. Moments later, she pressed a cold beer in each of Lewis' hands. “Go take one to Arthur, he's been working on the van all day, he could probably use a break.”

* 

He knew that time had passed, it had to have passed, but time meant so little now. Sometimes, it scared Lewis, how he didn't know how long he had been dead. He couldn't tell if he had died days ago, news of his demise barely sinking into those who loved him, or fifty years ago. He often wondered how he would react upon seeing Vivi as an old woman. He sometimes considered Arthur as an old man, and dismissed the idea in disgust. 

He did, however, feel the shifting within the cave. The little shapes, dead beats, he called them, seemed to almost try to distract him as the voice rumbled through the cave, through his mind. 

_“You are in luck.”_

Lewis didn't need to ask. If the encounter in the house had done anything, it had reminded him of Vivi, Arthur, even Mystery. Their auras, the way the air around them reacted to their presence. And he could feel the air growing thick with resentment as he heard the door of a vehicle slam near the mouth of the cave. 

_“It's him.”_

“I know. I can tell.”

_“You can feel his stinking soul from miles away.”_

“Yes.”

_“He hasn't brought her, you know. He's on his own. Are you brave enough, boy?”_

Lewis was. He faded as much as he could without vanishing altogether, and went to observe his guest. 

*

Arthur was finishing up when Lewis offered him the beer. He took it with a grateful smile and grimy hands. 

“Thanks.”

“She all fixed?”

Arthur took a swig and nodded. “Should be. Hang on, hold this again, I need to make sure she sounds OK starting up.”

He climbed into the van, turned the key, and listened carefully. Lewis thought the van sounded fine, but then-

“OK, she sounds fine.” Arthur reclaimed his beer. “I owe my uncle big time for the parts, but she's fine.”

Lewis stretched against the side of the vehicle. “I have no idea how you fix this stuff, I can't even play Operation without fucking it up.”

Arthur gave a shy smile. “I've been taught, though. And I like it. It's kind of like a jigsaw puzzle? A greasy one, anyway.” He looked in the wing mirror at his grubby, stained face and grimaced. “A really greasy jigsaw puzzle.”

Lewis pulled a piece of tissue from his pocket, licked it, and proceeded to rub it on an oil stain on Arthur's forehead. Arthur wriggled away. “Just so you know, you're not the only one who's been staring at me through a window like a stalker all day.” He nodded up to the apartment above theirs, home to Mr. Bennefield. Lewis noticed the man hurrying away from the window. He was a recently divorced middle-aged man, grey in the face and bearing a permanent scowl of disapproval. Lewis had helped him with a particularly unwieldy cabinet when he first moved in, and, while the man had seemed grateful, even almost friendly, he quickly became almost hostile towards them. Arthur was sat by the open window about a month after he moved in, and heard a phone conversation from the man's apartment during which Mr. Bennefield mentioned “a bunch of damn perverts that live downstairs” (Arthur assumed that he was not referring to June and Gordon, the married 90-somethings in the apartment next to them). Vivi pointed out that, as a man who exercised no subtlety when staring at her chest every single time she saw him, he had no business criticising them. 

“Maybe he's got a thing for you, Artie.”

Arthur leaned against the side of the van, arms splayed out. “Oh, take me, Mr. B! Tell me what your wife got in the divorce, you know that drives me wild!”

Lewis adopted the man's harsh, contemptuous voice. “Thought we'd change it up a bit tonight, let me tell you what I think of our immigration policies. Too soft, for a start.”

“As long as you're not, Benny baby.” The two burst out laughing, and Arthur locked the van. 

“C'mon, let's go inside, I probably fucking reek, could use a shower.”

Later, hair still damp and, uncharacteristically, obeying the laws of gravity, Arthur was sat on the floor, leaning against Lewis' legs. Vivi had headed into the bedroom, armed with her laptop and a stack of books, meaning that she had Serious Research to complete, presumably for some nightmarish ordeal they'd been asked to look at. Lewis had meant to ask her about it, having heard the words “cold spots in the North wing” and “decaying faces appearing at windows”. For now, however, he was debating a more pressing matter. 

“So, my choices are having all my farts sound like air raid sirens, or having accordions for legs.” He shook his head. “How do you think of this stuff?”

“That's the point of Either Or. Present a difficult hypothetical choice. What'll it be?”

“I'm going with air raid farts.”

“You sure? You eat a lot of spicy food...”

“Well, I can sort of hold that in, I can't be walking around pumping out hurdy-gurdy music with my legs, it'd be embarrassing. What if I had to go to... I don't know, a funeral or something?”

“You could provide backing music for the eulogy. My Grandma had a string quartet version of My Way playing at hers.”

“Yeah. String quartet. That would have probably sounded pretty different played on the accordion.”

“I guess.” Arthur stretched. Mystery bounded over from the corner, taking this as an invitation to unceremoniously plonk himself on Arthur's lap. 

“Ooof. Mystery, dude, you're not a puppy now. Also, I think you just crushed my pelvis.”

Lewis slid off the couch and next to Arthur so he could sling an arm over his shoulder and scratch Mystery's ears at the same time. 

“OK, I've got one.”

Arthur shifted to rest his head on Lewis' shoulder. “Shoot.”

“Would you rather get away with bank robbery or murder?”

“Bank robbery, duh. Come on, that was weak. Could always use more money, I've never looked at my life and decided there needed to be more corpses in it, especially since we're the ones dealing with the aftermath.”

“Oh come on, your family's rich.”

“Yeah, rich and usually mad at me. What, is there someone you want me to take care of for you? Do I have to go all Kill Bill on some shithead customer or something?”

Lewis let out a snort of laughter. “God, I can totally see you in that yellow jumpsuit thing. But no, you don't need to go around slaying people who don't tip.”

“Good.” The bedroom door clicked open, and Mystery launched himself off Arthur's lap to go to Vivi. “I'd be the worst hitman ever. I'd end up on America's Funniest Assassination Attempts or something. Hey, would you rather have the head of a zebra but a completely human body, or be, like, a zebra centaur thing?”

*

Arthur seemed vaguely aware of the strange, crackling static in the air as he entered the cave, reaching out blindly to static shocks, having not thought to bring in a flashlight. 

That thing, that sickly green presence, stirred in response. Arthur seemed to feel it, freezing on the spot. Lewis hadn't taken into account his appearance back at the mansion; he had seen the obligatory vest and hairstyle and look of sheer terror, and that had been good enough. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd truly looked Arthur in the eyes, but he seemed... older. Tired. Thinner. There were dark circles under his eyes, and, Lewis noted, a mechanical arm. Where had that come from? Shop accident? Was that the one he was pushed with? 

_“You're hesitating, boy.”_

To Lewis' surprise, Arthur seemed to hear that voice, clapping a hand over his mouth to stop the inevitable scream. He was terrified, alone, and here. Lewis solidified, stepping out of the shadows. 

“You came back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year, MSA fandom!   
> One thing I did notice when thinking about this chapter was... OK, so you know how, eventually, Lewis catches up to Arthur in the video, and he's just stood on the spot? I initially assumed that was because he was cornered. It sort of looks like he is, given the background. Then Vivi intervenes, and Arthur takes advantage of Lewis hesitating, grabs Vivi, and continues to run off in the same direction he was headed originally. Which makes me wonder why he stopped. I assume it's down to exhaustion; he's spent a good portion of the video sprinting away from a pretty speedy ghost, so there's the physical aspect, but also... what if he eventually just gave up, still scared, but figuring that he should just face his inevitable demise at the hands of a vengeful spirit? What would he have done if Vivi hadn't shown up and distracted Lewis? Sort of struck me as him mostly being focused on Vivi after Lewis died (partially due to Mystery's advice; he didn't tell Vivi what happened partly because he knew it wasn't Arthur's fault, but also because he knew they'd need each other).  
> So yeah, that's my reasoning behind Arthur actively looking for Lewis. Vivi knows now, as far as he's aware, she hates him, and he doesn't really much to lose by this point, but might get to set things straight with Lewis so he can rest peacefully.   
> Also, I just like writing dialogue, hence the flashbacks.   
> Thanks for the comments and kudos so far, as always, feedback, comments, etc are always welcome and appreciated.


	4. Arthur

It only dawned on Arthur as he approached the cave mouth that dread should have been writhing in his guts and pricking at his spine.

He thought of all the stuttered excuses to teachers, explaining away missing homework. He thought of that time he had hidden in his uncle’s garage overnight when his mother had found a dime bag in his coat pocket and sent him a furious text message demanding he come home and explain himself immediately. He thought of double shifts at his old job, his Grandmother’s funeral, parties where he didn’t know anyone. The annual flu shot he always seemed to have some adverse reaction to, his aunt asking if he’d like to hold his newborn baby cousin (oh God, what if he dropped her?).

This didn’t feel like any of those times. He was distantly aware of the break in Vivi’s voice and that look on her face that would be burned into his mind for as long as he still had one. But more importantly, there was a sense of duty, of inevitability. Of course, it was somewhat misplaced; after all, he had no idea what he was going to do beyond “try to find Lewis and apologise”. Not that apologies could do anything, “Hey you, haven't seen you since you chased me around a mansion in hope of killing me, couldn't help but feel partially responsible since I pushed you to your death and all, wanna talk it out?” Apologies wouldn't piece anyone's lives back together, least of all Lewis'.   
It occurred to him that he was most likely walking to his own execution. He paused, considering the enormity of this, what he would be leaving behind. The idea seemed too large, too smooth to fully grasp. Something about his parents. He wondered who, if anyone, would tell them. Vivi, well, she despised him now. He should have invited her along, who better to have front row seats for an act of retribution? A pang of guilt as he remembered Galaham. Vivi would feed him, he hoped. Or at least find a good home for him. Regardless of his former owner's actions, he couldn't imagine her letting any harm come to the tiny creature, or anyone for that matter.   
She would have been strong enough. She would have destroyed that thing before her body could take a single step towards Lewis' turned back.   
He was going to miss her. Probably. He wasn't sure what would happen to his soul. Would he come back, like Lewis and countless others, plagued by their regrets and anger, or would he move on? What did that even entail? Even Vivi didn't seem to know what happened once a spirit was released from this realm.   
“From what I gather,” she had told him one night, “it's strictly a one-way ticket, the whole crossing over deal. Ghosts are weighted to this world by something they didn't do, or something they never came to terms with. Ever wonder why so many of them are people who turned out to have died unexpectedly? That man in the mountains, for example.”  
“I liked him. He was cool. Told him he was dead, and he was all like “Huh, how about that” and then he was... gone.”  
“Yeah, probably one of the more chill ghosts we've met. Literally all that was holding him back was not realising he was dead.”  
“That's so crazy though, like... how can you not know? Are people really that full of denial? Like, “Well, guess I can walk through walls and people either don't notice me any more or shit their pants when I'm around, that's new”, or-”  
Vivi shrugged. “Death's an enormous thing. It's hard enough for us to truly grasp when we're alive, and the longer ghosts spend not being aware of being... well, ghosts, the more disconnected they get from human concepts like mortality. They get stuck in routines and just retrace their steps. They get hostile. Sometimes, they forget what it is to be human, that's how you get the formless, shadowy ones.”  
“So it's ignorance and regret that keeps them here?”  
“Yeah. That, and some just don't feel like it yet.”  
“Like that old racist guy?”  
“Yeah. God, he was a dick. Not much we can do about those ones, we can make it so they can't haunt a certain location, but we can't make them cross over.”  
“Shame.” Arthur reached for his packet of cigarettes. “We could do with a portal or something, we'd just be flinging ghosts through it like “Walk into the light already you jerkass ghost”.”  
“Nah. We're not exterminators, we help ghosts.” Vivi plucked the cigarette from his fingers. “And you're going to get a first hand experience of being a ghost if you don't cut down.”  
*  
The cave was cold, and the damp seemed to reach Arthur's core. He arrived at the fork where they had split up on that night, that same sickly green light hanging in the air, as though it had been waiting for him. It had not been waiting alone, he realised, just knowing that he had found who he was looking for.   
“You came back.” Lewis' voice seemed to bypass his ears altogether, not existing as vibrations in the air so much as something that just existed in his head. Arthur swallowed hard, realising that, despite his distracted state, he had been shaking, with cold, with fear, with the immeasurable nature of what he was doing. He turned to face Lewis, bracing himself for the impact of seeing him reduced to dust and bones.   
Surprisingly, he looked almost exactly as he had seconds before death. Something was off; the colours were muted, although it was unclear how much of that was down to the dim, green light. But mostly, it was the eyes. In life, they had been dark, but they shone like onyx, full of a thousand memories and thoughts and jokes. And now they spoke of shadows and void. Arthur tried to scrape together the pieces of his insufficient apology, form a sentence, anything-  
“How long has it been?”  
Lewis' question caught him off guard. “Uh... just over a year.”  
“And you were going to apologise.”  
Arthur nodded.   
“I've spent over a year in this fucking cave, reliving my own death, and you want to apologise.”  
“I-”  
“Come on, what can you possibly say now? Here, I'll help you. Explain to me exactly what I did to deserve that. Explain why I had to look Vivi in the eye while I died. Explain why my parents and brothers and sisters had to lose me too. I'm fucking waiting.”  
Lewis seemed to glow brighter, which only made the darkness in his eyes more unsettling.   
“I was weak.”  
Silence and fog hung in the damp air. A voice hissed in the darkness.   
“Pathetic.”  
Arthur jumped, glancing around, arms folded tightly across his chest. He had to continue. There was nothing, he reminded himself, that could possibly go wrong this time. Lewis was already dead. Lewis would almost certainly make sure that he was dead too by the time this was over. All he could do was bleat out his explanation, face his own ending. Maybe Lewis could move on. Maybe he would spend eternity trapped in a cave with the righteous anger of a beautiful boy who died at his hands. Maybe that was what he'd misinterpreted as Hell.   
“That thing's right. Pathetic. I was scared, and fucked up, and that made it easier for it to creep in- Lewis, I'm not going to say it wasn't my fault. It was. I should have been able to fight it. Vivi would have. You would have. I didn't know what to do, and it happened so fast, and that's why I'm here.”  
There was a low, rumbling noise echoing through the cavern, a cold laugh seeping into every crack and thickening the air. That voice spoke up again.   
“The dead only provide so much sustenance, boy.”  
Arthur whipped his head around, trying to locate the source of the noise.   
“What are you talking about?” Lewis shook his head. “Fucking sustenance. You don't need it, you've got this entire shitty cave to yourself. And now he's here, you haven't shut up about him in over a year, leave us alone.”  
“You are an ignorant child.” The cave flickered. “Do you see what a perfect vessel I have been given? I was weaker the last time we met, and he was still so easy to claim.”  
Lewis froze. “No.”  
“Yes. I fed on all the fear in his wretched little heart, and the hatred in what used to be yours. I am strong now. Strong enough to leave this place, within the proper vessel. To grow, and feed, and rise-”  
The fog grew thicker around Arthur. He could almost smell the decay, choke on it. And then, his body was no longer his own. Sparks flew behind eyes he had no control over, he could feel what were, in theory, his feet pounding on the slippery rocks, his body clumsily launching forward, the anguished screech of something denied its freedom, his breath, but not truly his, pumping in and out of struggling lungs.   
Vivi had been right about cutting down on cigarettes.   
But mostly, he saw himself. He saw himself lying on the floor with Mystery stretched out across his lap, fixing the van, beaming brightly at Vivi as she slung a pizza box his way with a look of distaste (“Here, I ordered you this gross thing since you apparently can't eat normal pizza like a normal person”), running a shaking hand through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut tight after yet another terrible phone conversation with his parents, shifting in his sleep, looking up at the stars while smoking, exchanging jokes with his uncle, falling far, far away with a green tinge to his skin. 

He felt what was undoubtedly Lewis exploring every recess of his mind, every unspoken thought, dark nights, darker days, instances in which he woke up feeling pleasantly surprised at his light mood, only for it to dispel when he remembered why it was so rare. Panicking, he instinctively rebelled against the intrusion, feeling something in his head shift. Combined with the unnatural feeling of having his body run without him willing it to, he was almost deaf (could he be deaf to a voice that didn’t even need to travel through his ears?) to the protests.  
“Arthur. Stop it.”

(picket fences, no, razor wire, no, large walls, granite with metal spikes)

“I mean it. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

The words found their way to the memory of Lewis’ death, of the cave and its foul rot and cold voice. There had been so much blood. He became aware of the ground feeling softer against what were usually his feet. Arthur focused, managing to look through what were usually his eyes, but as though he were peering up from the bottom of a deep pit. Clouds rolled overhead. They’d made it out of the cave.

His body seemed to be slowing, the memory surrounded by Lewis and his white hot, seething fury. Not fury. More so. Conflict.

(pour water on it put it out please please-)

Uncertainty weighed down. The pressure was unbearable.

(do what you like, just get out get out get out)

“I don’t know how this works.” Lewis flickered in frustration behind Arthur’s eyelids. “Look, I’ll try, just- calm down, OK?”

Tearing, pulling, a burning light increasing, bright enough to consume everything in its path. And then, a blinding flash, and, finally, there was darkness again.

*

The murmur of voices dispersed, and became more coherent. Arthur wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He hadn’t even attempted to move yet. He simply lay there, confirmed he was still breathing, and listened to the dull thud of his heartbeat, how it was slightly out of synch with the angry throbbing in his head. Something damp was pressed under his nose and his eyes blinked open of their own accord. That something was wiping at his face gently.

“Arthur?” Vivi blurred into view, albeit as a blue shape, given how close she was. “Hey. Can you squeeze my hand if you can hear me?” A hand was placed in his. To his relief, his hand appeared to be under his control again.

“How’d you get here?” he managed to mumble into the cloth.

“I assumed you came here on some idiotic mission, so I borrowed my Dad’s car.”

A thought from before echoed in his mind. “Front row seats.”

“Huh?”

“Nothin’. He experimented with shifting his heavy, aching limbs, and forced himself into a sitting position, his aching head screaming at him in the process. Something trickled from his nose and he noticed the dark stains on his shirt. 

“Here.” Vivi handed him the sanitary wipe she had been using. “Your nose was gushing blood when I got here.”

“What happened?”

Vivi nodded towards a figure lurking by the van, blending in with the darkness. “From what he tells me, Lewis decided to hitch a ride with you, partly to get out of the cave, but also to stop the foggy green giant asshole from doing the same. Combination of him having never possessed anyone and you freaking out meant that it didn't go smoothly for you. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Everything hurts. Also, my vest is ruined. Lewis?”

Lewis walked over, footfalls making no impact on the grass. 

“Hi.” 

And, for a moment, it was so easy to forget what happened, to imagine that it was a stupid fight, that neither and both of them wanted to admit to being wrong, that they just wanted to forget it, and-

“I'm sorry. That's why I came here.”

Lewis dug his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, I know. I shared your... headspace? Yeah, that.”

There was a period of silence. Vivi broke it. 

“Arthur, do you think you can get up?”

He nodded, holding out his hand, his real hand, to her, and finding himself tugged to his feet. The world tilted slightly, and he found himself staggering backwards into Lewis, apparently determined to hide in the background.

To his credit, Lewis not only remained solid, but ensured he was standing before letting go. Arthur rubbed at a clump of dried blood in his goatee. He felt woozy, and so tired, and, ordinarily, he'd just want to go home and sleep for a week, but this was too important. He turned around to face Lewis. 

“I'm sorry.”

“I know.”

“So you definitely know I'm sorry.”

“I've literally been in your head. So yes. I know you're sorry.”

“And-”

“And it wasn't really your fault.” His voice still seemed so distant, not even because of his current state. Arthur's knees started to buckle, and Vivi gently lowered him to the ground. 

“I'm taking him home.”

Lewis nodded. 

“You too. My Dad and Miriam won't be back for another three days. I can get their car once Arthur's OK to drive.”

The last thing Arthur remembered was a pair of strong hands roughly hauling him into the van, followed by a warm creature stretching across his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cracked podcast voice* "footNOTES!"  
> I've always had this weird thing about facing your own death; no matter how many quotable phrases you churn out, how can any mortal ever be truly ready to die? I get "This will probably kill me", but not "This will probably kill me and I will possibly cease to exist after this" (granted, the latter might be a source of comfort for some). It was one of the main things that's always stood out to me in other works, the idea of viewing yourself as ultimately disposable as long as it was for a greater good. I kind of understand, the idea that Arthur's lost everything by this point, as far as he's concerned. He figures Vivi hates him, Mystery doesn't need him around, and Lewis wants closure, which, to him, means Arthur being unceremoniously hoofed off a cliff, or whatever, as long as they're even. He's so tired of having to overlook the circumstances behind Lewis' death by this point that he'd rather just face them, no excuses.   
> Lewis, meanwhile, has had vengeance as his motivation for so long that he doesn't know how to react when he uses Arthur's body to cheese it out of that cave; it's been confirmed to him that it wasn't Arthur's doing, but man, when you've spent that long hating someone for killing you, it can't be as easy to shake as "Oh, OK, he just got possessed, wasn't his fault". He's both concerned for Arthur out of force of habit, and resentful of him, also out of force of habit. That is going to be awkward as hell. Tune in next time for mermatee's "Let's make cute cartoon characters suffer" hour (of course I'll be continuing this in another story, so keep an eye out for that). 
> 
> Shout out to reviewers, commenters, and bearers of kudos, you guys rule. Feedback, reviews, comments and suggestions always welcome. I can be found bimbling all over the place on Tumblr at deadbeatexmachina (no, that wasn't deliberate, that's been my username for years now, which is handy). See you next time, in which the Skulls consider their next move.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again, hope you all had happy holidays and whatnot.  
> So yeah, since I tend to write third person POV chapters (or at least, have done so far with other works in this series), I figured I'd stick with the same format for this one. Mystery's a tough one to write since a) he's a (sort of) dog, and b) I'm torn between him being very old and wise and him being incredibly sarcastic. Somehow, I can't quite picture him as a Scooby type. I can imagine that he'd be more used to death than Vivi and Arthur, but still surprised at how much he can truly care for his humans once he's seen them suffering.  
> As always, comments/reviews more than welcome/appreciated/encouraged. Big thanks to everyone who's given kudos/comments to the previous works in this series, you guys rule.


End file.
